


Hallowe'en At The Opera

by filthybonnet



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: 19th Century, F/M, Hallowe'en, Halloween, opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-12-21 15:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthybonnet/pseuds/filthybonnet
Summary: Christine Daae finds herself partaking in several Hallowe'en activities and traditions through this collection of ficlets and oneshots. Be it bobbing for apples and getting a stolen kiss from a certain Vicomte or seeing a Skeleton in the mirror symbolizing her wedding future, all activities will be based on actual 19th century Hallowe'en traditions.





	1. applE pEEls

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of Halloween activities in the 19th century centered around romance and courtship as Hallowe'en was a time for fun and societal morale and norms to be loosened. A lot of commentary is made today around "slutty" version of women's Halloween costumes, but women's Halloween costumes have always been "slutty" for the era. Popular Women's Hallowe'en costumes in the 19th century were bat, bee, celestial night sky, and all of them had high hemlines often coming above the ankle where all of the boot and sometimes an inch of stocking could be seen. Those vixens! 
> 
> All historical information I am drawing from can be found here: https://www.messynessychic.com/2017/10/24/forgotten-romantic-rituals-of-halloweens-past/ or came from my own excessive knowledge of the 19th century that I have been accumulating since I was like 13. Example the additional apple peeling fortune telling stuff I learned at a historical Halloween event I've attended two years in a row. I'd be going this year if I had the money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story is a form of fortune telling by way of apple peeling. This was usually done by young single women. You would peel an apple’s peel in one long strand then toss it over your shoulder. You would then check to see what letter it formed and it was supposed to form the first letter of the name of the man you were to marry. There’s a couple different versions of this in which if the peel breaks you either die an old maid or you die within the next year. I did not use these versions in this story.

Christine Daae stood on the ottoman in her dressing room, undergarments completely exposed. The Opera Populaire’s lead costumer wrapped her measuring tape around The Soprano’s waist.

“Is this how you always wear your corset, Mademoiselle?”

“Yes.”

“Even when you are performing?”

“Yes.”

The elder woman, draped the tape measure around her neck before scribbling the number down in a notebook with a dull pencil. “I just want to make sure. We exhaust over adjusting Carlotta’s costumes.”

“Mlle Daae will not give that kind of trouble I can promise,” Madame Giry adjusted her hands on her walking stick.

The costumer studied the young woman one last time, “I will see what we have in storage that might fit you. ‘The Magic Flute’ has been performed before in the Populaire’s history.”

“Thank you very much,” Christine smiled at the costumer as she stepped off the ottoman. She removed her dressing robe from the dress mannequin as Madame Giry showed the woman out.

“I hope she finds nothing to fit you. He would prefer to see you in new costumes.”

“Madame, my voice is his only concern,” Christine finished tying her dressing robe around her and walked over to her vanity. She lifted her brush to her brown locks.

“Are you so sure?” Madame Giry met Christine’s reflection in the mirror. “Behind the mask and under that face is still a man. And that man does love beauty.”

The Soprano looked down, her brush pausing mid stroke. She suddenly felt too naked. _Had he not said something similar when I so cruelly ripped his mask away? Had I not felt the passion of a man when he held me in his arms and sang to me his music of the night?_

A hard knock at the door jarred both women.

“Christine? Mother?”

“Meg!” The young woman dropped her brush and skipped to the door letting her friend in. She embraced the ballerina welcoming the distraction from her thoughts.

“I have something for you!” Meg held up a small drawstring bag and handed it to the singer.

“Meg Giry, do you not have your own fitting?” Madame Giry turned a stern face to her daughter.

“I went first, Mother.”

“Very well. I better help with the other girls.” The older Giry turned to Christine and smiled, “Do keep her in line. She does not have half the discipline you do, Christine.”

The Soprano gave a small bow, “Yes, Madame. And thank you for all your help.”

The moment she was gone, the blonde ballerina locked the dressing room door, “Thank God. Anyway, it’s that time of year!”

“What time of year?”

“Hallowe’en! The time of ghosts, goblins, witches all things that rule the night!” Meg pulled her friend to the floor.

“You of all people, Meg?” Christine sat the bag down as she adjusted her dressing robe. “You are excited for such a time of year? You who cannot hear a creak in this building without thinking of The Phantom of the Opera?”

Meg huffed, “I thought I had a friend with whom I could share this. I heard a certain Vicomte mention that you loved stories of goblins and ghosts and would spend hours acting them out in the attic.”

“Those were just childhood games. We are grown now.”

“That’s right and I see how he keeps coming around. I do believe that is more that a childhood crush,” Meg playfully pushed her friend and giggled. “And if ghosts are such childhood games, how come you too pale at the mention of the Opera Ghost?”

Feeling her cheeks start to flush, the Soprano changed the subject, “Okay what is in your bag to celebrate Hallowe’en?” She emptied it onto the floor to find two large red apples and two knifes. She arched an eyebrow, “Meg?”

“We’re telling fortunes!” The blonde girl giggled. “We each take an apple and a knife. We call upon the spirits as we peel our apple in one long strip. We then toss the strip over our back. The spirts are to form it into a letter. It is to be the letter of the first name of the man we are to marry!”

Christine smiled as she grabbed a knife and apple. The room was silent as both girls concentrated so their strand would not break. Meg finished first.

“Come on, I want us to toss together!”

“Almost done…ouch!” Christine dropped everything to the floor as she brought her thumb to her mouth. A small drop of bright red blood landed on her white dressing robe.

“Oh, Christine are you okay?”

The Soprano sucked her thumb for a few more seconds and pulled it away, “I think so.” She studied her thumb, there was no cut, “I just poked it with the tip.” She picked her peel back up and sighed, “Good it’s still on one strand. Are you ready, Meg? This was your idea; I will let you summon the spirts.”

The ballerina took a deep breath and closed her eyes, “Spirits please show us our future in the peel.”

A quick toss and three soft thumps. The girls laughed as they turned around but it quickly turned to groans upon seeing what happened to Meg’s.

“Mine broke!” Meg exclaimed. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means we shouldn’t put much merit into this,” Christine wrapped her arms around her friend.

“You’re right. Yours looks like an E not an R.”

Christine turned to look at her peel and sure enough it was twisted to look like a lower case E.

_“You return even though I am no Angel of Music?” The Phantom’s voice boomed._

_“Yes. Even as just a man you make beautiful music and I cannot ignore that. However, as a man you must have a name. May I know it?”_

_ “Erik,” The Phantom’s voice was now soft. “You may call me Erik, Christine.” _

The Soprano’s cheeks pinked when they should have drained of color.

Meg tilted her head, “Maybe the spirits were just too powerful? They accidently split mine and curved your R too far that it became an E. What do you think?” She turned and looked at her friend, “Heavens, Christine are you blushing?”

“I believe I should get dressed. We’ve had enough Hallowe’en fun for the night.” She stood and walked over to her chaise lounge where her clothes laid.

The Blonde gathered up the fortune telling material and pushed it back in the draw string bag, “Christine, who is he? Who is this mysterious M. E? What’s it like to have two men trying to court you?”

Christine walked back over to her friend and took her hands into hers, “Promise me, you will not tell anyone about tonight!”

“We were just playing a Hallowe’en game. What is there to tell?”

“Just don’t mention it.”

Christine’s blue eyes were frantic, filled with tears as she tightened her grip on her friend’s hands. “No one can know about the E.”

“You do still believe in ghosts.”

The Burnette nodded her head. Those tears now streamed down her cheeks.

“No one will know.”

Christine helped her friend to her feet and then hugged her tight, “Thank you.”

Meg pulled away, “I will let you get dressed and see you tomorrow at rehearsal.”

Once she was alone in her dressing room, Christine leaned her whole body against the full-length mirror. It was cool against her burning body. She knew Erik wasn’t there right now; he knew she had a costume fitting and that Madame Giry would be there. But this was as close as she could get to him tonight.

The Soprano let out a sob. Her father had sent her an Angel of Music but he had fallen from grace. And now he was a man. A horrifying man, but still man who somehow stirred something in her. A man with a name. Erik.


	2. All Hallow's Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobbing for apples was a fall/Halloween game in the 19th century just as it is today. However, in the 19th century, when bobbing for apples tied on string, it became a common practice for young single men to “miss” the apple and “steal” a kiss from a young woman. 
> 
> Another Hallowe’en game for 19th century women was to go into a dark room with a mirror and hold a candle up to it. In only the candlelight she was supposed to see the reflection of her future husband. If instead she saw a skull, it meant she was to die before she was married. 
> 
> In this story I mention a spirit talking board. This is a homemade/prototype Ouija Board. Ouija Boards as a marketed brand with that name did not come out until 1890, but boards with similar markings were in use throughout the 19th century especially during the spiritualist movement. The Ouija Board probably only became mass marketed because of this movement. 
> 
> This is a novel based story, though I did take liberties to create Raoul three female cousins.

Raoul sent his best carriage to retrieve Christine from Mme. Valerius’ house for the Hallowe’en Ball his cousins were hosting. His female cousins, the ones he was raised with. He even sent his oldest one, the married one, with the carriage to act as Christine’s chaperone.

Comte Phillipe de Chagny objected to his younger brother bringing the opera singer to their house. He wanted this ridiculous infatuation over. Threats of being removed from the family inheritance if he married the girl did not seem to deter him.

_“It is only one night and a costume party,” Adele Heger, the married cousin, soothed Phillipe. “Perhaps she could sing for us and be seen as entertainment and therefore is not exactly an official guest.”_

Christine adjusted her Black Domino mask as she watched the mannerisms of Raoul’s cousin from the other bench in the carriage. “I cannot express my gratitude enough for your offering to chaperone me to the ball tonight. I have never attended such an event.”

Adele smiled, “You haven’t?”

“I have attended the annual Masquerades at the Opera but those are so large.”

When the carriage stopped in front of the de Chagny residence, The Singer found her face pressed to the window in awe of its grandeur.

“Mlle Daae?” Adele was already outside of the carriage.

Christine shook her head and allowed the footman to help her out, “Do you live here, Mme. Heger?”

The woman laughed, her full white dress moving with it, “Oh no! This is Comte de Chagny’s estate. The Vicomte resides here as well. I am merely visiting my cousins. My husband’s estate is a bit more modest.”

The Vicomte was anxiously waiting in his White Domino costume in the grand foyer, “Christine!”

“Vicomte,” The Soprano smiled and curtsied.

“No need for the display of airs,” He took her hand and kissed it. “Do not let the carriage and house fool you. It is still me, your Raoul.”

“To the ballroom,” Adele said firmly. “I need to get the rest of my costume.”

All eyes were on Raoul and Christine when they entered the room, but two women took special interest to the point they walked over.

“Is this her?” The dirty blonde in the bat costume asked.

“Marie, that is rude,” The light brown haired in the bee costume retorted. “Raoul, may you please introduce us to this beautiful lady?”

“Christine, might I introduce my other two cousins; Marie and Bernadette. Marie and Bernadette, may I introduce Christine Daae my old childhood friend and beautiful opera singer from the Opera Populaire.”

“So she is real!” Marie exclaimed. “She’s just not a story from before you lived with us. Please tell us what was he like?”

“It is Hallowe’en, what you say will not matter tomorrow,” Bernadette chimed in. “We will not be able to see him blush under that mask.”

Christine laughed nervously as she clung tighter to his arm, “He was a loyal companion. Always eager to listen to my stories or play a game.”

“That doesn’t sound like the shy boy we knew, but speaking of games,” Bernadette spoke. “We have some set up in the parlor you have to come play with us tonight.”

“That sounds fun!” Christine exclaimed. “I will at some point.”

“Yes, yes but first I do not want to miss a moment more of dancing,” Raoul turned towards Christine. “Shall we?”

“Wait, Raoul, she will need a dance card!” Bernadette informed.

“No. She is with me all night,” And with that, White Domino led his Black Domino to the dance floor.

After a few dances, Christine whispered in Raoul’s ear, “May we go to the parlor now? I am curious about the games.”

He chuckled, “Of course you are. Little Lotte always loved her games.” The Vicomte grabbed them each a glass of champagne and they finished them on their way to the parlor.

There in the doorway they found a couple of apples on strings dangling, in the room itself a wash basin filled with water and apples on the floor and a spirit talking board on the table.

“So where you do want to start?” Raoul asked.

“I don’t want to get wet so I think the apple bobbing on strings would be fun,” Christine removed her black mask and sat it on the couch.

“Alright!” Raoul’s white mask joined hers before they placed themselves on opposite sides of a hanging apple.

Christine gave the apple a slight push and it swung back and forth. Raoul leaned in to bite it and missed. Christine giggled. She tried and missed. The second time Raoul tried he caught it. Christine giggled again and clapped. “You made that look so easy.”

Raoul removed the apple from his mouth, “Shall we try again?” This time he pushed the apple. Christine missed, Raoul missed, Christine missed and when Raoul went again he went a little too far to the side and he caught Christine’s lips instead.

Both of their eyes widened, before Raoul decided to take advantage of the situation. He closed his eyes and pushed in, gently to see how exactly how she would respond. The Soprano let out a soft squeal before returning it. Raoul took her hands pulling her closer to his body and she didn’t resist. He parted his mouth just a little, sucking on her bottom lip.

“That is not on the list of parlor games,” Marie’s voice sounded from behind Raoul.

Christine quickly pulled away from her White Domino and looked at the wood floor.

“I missed the apple,” The Vicomte turned to his cousin.

“I’m sure you did,” Marie walked past the couple into the parlor. “Just as last year I ‘missed’ the apple with Jacque and Adele caught us. Do not worry, cousin. Your secret is safe with me.” She sat down at the table in front of the spirit talking board, “Though do be careful, I saw Phillipe watching you dance.”

“Oh dear, Raoul,” Christine placed her hands on his shoulders. “You informed me he approved of my coming tonight.”

“He did. He’s just protective of me.”

“If you want to call it that,” Marie muttered under her breath. She then spoke at full volume, a smile on her face, “Come here Christine, let’s summon some spirits!”

“No, no, no, I have a better idea,” Bernadette stormed into the room, the little yellow wings of her costume bobbing. “We have three young single women here. Shall we go gaze into the mirror?”

“I do not believe Mlle Daae is single, especially after what I just witnessed, dear sister,” Marie adjusted the board on the table. “Besides we do that every year and we are still single.”

“Maybe Christine is the charm we need.”

“What is gaze into the mirror?” The Soprano walked further into the room.

“No, we are not playing anymore games,” Raoul followed after. “Mlle Daae is my date and I would kindly appreciate it if you two remember that.”

“Yes, but you get to see her at the Opera all the time,” Bernadette pushed apples down in the water of the basin only to watch them pop back up. “We are only visiting for a fortnight. I promise we will not be long.”

“Don’t be rude, Raoul,” Christine turned to face him. “Remember, Little Lotte loves games. After I will be yours for the rest of the night.” She kissed him lightly before grabbing her mask and putting it back on.

“Come my room has the best mirror,” Bernadette grabbed Christine’s hand and dragged her out into the grand hall and up the stairs.

Marie sighed and followed them shortly after.

***

Christine studied Bernadette’s full-length mirror in its mahogany frame. She would have to admit it was beautiful if she did not have a better one in her dressing room.

“So how does this work?” Christine asked staring at her reflection.

“It only works on Hallowe’en,” Bernadette instructed. “You light a candle, turn off all the lights and then hold the candle up to the mirror. Only then will the mirror show you your future husband. However, if you see a skull it means you will die before you are wedded!”

“We do this every year yet we’re still single,” Marie sighed.

“But we also have not seen a skull,” Bernadette snapped. “Do you want to go first Marie so you can move on?”

“Sure.”

The Bat walked over to the dresser and lit a candle while the Bee walked over to the gaslight nob.

“Christine, move out of the way, it can only be me and my future husband in the reflection,” Marie stood in front of the mirror as Christine moved to stand beside Bernadette. “Ready!”

Bernadette turned the gaslight in the room off and Marie held the candle up to the mirror.

“Do you see anyone?” Christine asked.

“Nothing, just like last year. I guess I am destined to be an old maid.”

“Do you want to go next, Christine?” Bernadette turned the lamps back up on low. “I think you might see someone.”

Marie smirked as she handed her the candle, “You can still probably feel him on your lips.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” Behind her mask a little bit of color came to The Soprano’s cheeks.

“Don’t be,” Marie continued. “He has talked nonstop about you since we got here. Now take your mask off.”

Christine felt her heart flutter as she sat the mask on the dresser and walked over to the mirror. _How could his cousins be so excited about our relationship when they have to know he would lose everything if he married an Opera Tart?_ She took a deep breath and stood tall.

“I’m turning off the lights.”

The Soprano held the candle high and close to the smooth surface. Something formed beside the flame’s reflection. _Was that a face? No…no…it was a skull! Wait skulls don’t have skin, thinning tuffs of hair…or lips…such thin distorted lips. But those black sockets…it has to be a skull! Am I really going to die before I am married? _The sockets blinked opened; two deep set, but beautiful, glowing golden eyes. The face smiled at her.

“Erik,” Christine whispered.

That instant all the windows in the room pushed open, a breeze blowing out the candle, setting the room into instant darkness.

“Oh my God!” Bernadette exclaimed pushing the gaslight controller up to full extent.

“Christine!” Marie called running to her. “Christine are you okay?”

The snuffed-out candle was on the floor, The Soprano ghostly white, shaking. Marie took her hands, “Christine, it’s okay. It’s just a game. The wind just opened the windows.”

“That was a fun Hallowe’en spook,” Bernadette said. “I know I would be just as scared if it happened to me. Come let’s go back down stairs.”

***

“What happened?” Raoul pulled Christine into his arms as soon he saw how pale she was.

“It was just a fright,” Bernadette informed. “The windows opened when it was her turn and blew out the candle, that was all.”

“It doesn’t look like just a fright,” He snapped. “Are you okay, Christine?” He rubbed her back.

She looked up at Raoul, “I need to go home, Raoul. I am terribly sorry but I just need to.”

“You said you would spend the rest of the evening with me. There is still so much dancing to do. I would love to show you the gardens.”

“Raoul, please…”

“Christine, I put in so much effort to get you to come tonight. Everyone is hoping to hear you sing. Please don’t leave yet,” He pulled her tighter into his arms.

“Raoul, please,” Christine finally pulled away. “I need to go home. I don’t need a chaperone for this.”

The Vicomte sighed.

***

Once the carriage was past the gates of the de Chagny’s estate; Christine pounded on the carriage wall to get the attention of the driver. It came to a jolting stop. She pushed the window open, “I know the Vicomte gave you instructions to my guardian’s house but he is not my master. I need you to take me to the The Opera Garnier.”

“He may not be your master but is my boss though, Mademoiselle.”

“He will only know the difference if you tell him.”

The driver nodded and turned the carriage in the opposite direction.


	3. Misfortune Cabbage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Pumpkins are vegetable associated with Halloween today, in the 19th century cabbages also played a big part. Usually they were heading towards a rotting state and they were picked to burned in bonfires, thrown at people and things. Women also pulled them from gardens for fortune reading: looking at the stumps to predict information about future husbands or sitting it above a door and whatever the cabbage fell on first through the door was the man they were to marry.
> 
> This is a novel based story.

“What the Devil is in that bag?” Little Jammes moved it out of the chair in front of her mirror as she gave a disapproving look at Meg Giry. “It smells like the morgue window and it’s going to make the whole room smell like it!” The little girl grabbed her bottle of perfume and spritzed the air around her. 

“If you don’t want in on my Hallowe’en prank then so be it,” Meg quipped as a hairdresser pulled on her black hair. 

“What prank?” The other ballerina sat down and started to whiten her face. 

“Against Sorelli. I swore I saw another man come and go from her dressing room besides Comte de Chagny. We all know how he insists on being her only patron.” 

“And what does that rotten bag have to do with it?”

“It’s not a rotten bag, it’s a rotten cabbage,” Meg started applying her make up as the hairdresser finished putting bobby pins in her hair. “We’re going to put it above her dressing room door, wait and watch. The first man it falls on going through the door is her true ‘patron.’ It’s going to be comical!”

“What do you plan on doing with this information?” Little Jammes brought her rouge to her lips.

“Confront her before I bring it up with my mother,” The white make-up hardly covered The Giry girl’s tan complexion. 

“What if it’s Comte de Chagny who gets a head full of rotten cabbage?”

“Then the Hallowe’en fun is over and I will just have to catch the other man some other way.”

** *** **

The ballerinas waited in the shadows after the show, looking at the cabbage sitting on the door frame. Sorelli had yet to show up to her dressing room. 

“What if the cabbage lands on her?” Jammes whispered into Meg’s ear. 

Meg put her hands over her mouth to suppress a giggle. 

At that moment the handle on Sorelli’s dressing room turned, from the inside! The ballerinas’ eyes widened as they witnessed the door swing open and a tall dark figure appear. A second later the cabbage toppled from its resting place, hitting the figure’s black fedora before splattering onto the floor. The figure spun around; golden eyes aflame inside a skull.

_ The Opera Ghost! _ Even Meg’s complexion paled as he found them in the shadows. 

“Hallowe’en pranks,” The imposing figure bent down and picked up the cabbage. “Touché,” He tossed it at them wilting leaves scattering around their pointe shoes. With a twirl of his cape he was gone down the corridors. 

The girls stood frozen in place for some time. It was Meg who spoke first, “The Opera Ghost! In Sorelli’s dressing room! Why?”

“He saw us, Meg! He knows it was us! He’s going to haunt us forever!” Little Jammes grabbed onto Meg’s arms.

That moment Sorelli walked up arm linked to Comte de Chagny. The other two ballerinas did not care as the ran from the darkness up to her.

“Sorelli, Sorelli!” They cried in unison.

“My God!” Phillipe exclaimed. “What is going on here?”

“The Opera Ghost!” Jammes exclaimed. “He was just here! He came out of your dressing room, Sorelli!” 

“My dressing room? My locked dressing room?” The lead dancer brought her hand to her chest. 

“Tell her, Meg!” 

“He just opened the door and walked out! Looked right at us!” 

“Now wait just a minute!” Phillipe exclaimed. “First my brother rambles on about some Angel of Music visiting Mlle Daae in her dressing room and now you two shaking over some Opera Ghost in La Sorellil’s? What kind of hysterics are affecting you women! Shall I send a doctor?”

“I cannot speak for Mlle Daae but these two have always been hysterical. Always fascinated with stories of the Opera Ghost,” Sorelli reached into the pocket she always kept attached to her, where her dagger and key lived when not in her door, and removed the key. She inserted it into her door and unlocked it.

She gave a stern look at the other ballerinas, “And just how much sherry have you had tonight? Now if you will excuse us.” The couple entered the dressing room and the door closed behind them.

“What about the cabbage?” Little Jammes asked.

Meg waved her hand, “Leave it for the rats.” She headed towards the shared dressing room; Jammes a step behind her.

Out of sight down the corridor, The Phantom of the Opera heard the whole conversation. _Mlle Daae discussing her Angel of Music? Just what exactly has she told the Vicomte?_ And with another swirl of his cape; he was gone. 


	4. A Stick In A Piece of Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Irish Hallowe'en tradition was a Barmbrack: a bread where various objects were baked into it to tell one’s future relationship status. The various items symbolized aspects of relationships; like when one would get married, the aspects of a relationship, etc. 
> 
> For this story I decided to make it a cake because fortune telling cakes have roots in many other holidays and it would be fancier than bread for a ball. This story set after "The Phantom of the Opera" musical but sets up "Love Never Dies." However, I borrowed some of the ballerinas from the novel for it.

“Madame, your corset is not going to get any tighter,” Christine de Chagny’s maid let go of the strings. “If we cannot get you into your costume, I believe you are going to have to inform The Vicomte of something tonight.”

Christine looked down at her Star Princess costume spread across her bed. “We are going to have to make it fit,” She walked over to her full-length mirror and observed her reflection. “It is not too noticeable.” 

She placed her hand on her stomach. _Almost four months and Raoul had not even noticed a thing. Not my mood swings, the morning upset or my already expanding body?_

“Why have you not told him?” Collette the dear young maid asked, picking up the Star Princess skirt

_It’s not his child. It’s not his child. Erik, why? Why? You would have known I was carrying the moment I missed my first menses. _

The Soprano held her breath as they both worked to pull the skirt over her upper body and adjust it over her petticoats.

“I guess I have overstepped my status again,” Collette helped with the top before lacing it on in the back.

There was a knock at the door connecting their bed chambers. “Is my Star Princess ready?” A Hussar Soldier walked through a smile on his face. It quickly turned to concern as he eyed his wife.

“Are you not feeling well, Christine? You look bloated.”

Christine sat down on the bed facing away from her husband, “You are right, I am not feeling well. You will have to host the party without me.”

“Oh darling, what is the matter?” Raoul sat down and took her hands into his. “Shall I send for the doctor?”

The Soprano bit her lip and turned her head from Raoul’s. Her gaze met Collette’s. The young maid nodded her head.

Christine shook her head, “Thank you for your service tonight, Collette. You may go home now.”

The girl sighed loudly, “Good night, Madame.”

“Lotte please,” Raoul sighed and sat down behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Was it because I said you look bloated? I…I should not have said that. Let’s forget it and enjoy our Hallowe’en ball tonight. We always enjoyed the of goblins and ghosts together.”

Christine smiled as she placed her hand on top of Raoul’s.

***

“Christine!” The ballerinas cried in unison as they ran up to her in the ballroom.

The Vicomtesse’s face lit up as the girls pulled her into an embraced. “It’s so wonderful to see you! I cannot wait to see all of you in ‘The Marriage of Figaro!’”

After a few silent seconds, Christine spoke again, “Have any of you heard from Meg or Madame Giry?”

They all looked at the floor. Jammes finally spoke, “Not since your wedding.”

Christine sighed. As if losing Erik wasn’t enough. She also lost her career and best friend.

“We miss them just as much,” Jammes said.

Madame de Chagny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them and smiled. “Well, tonight is for Hallowe’en fun. Come, I had something made just for all of you.”

The girls in their various bird costumes followed the Star Princess to the refreshment table where a cake waited. “May I present a Barmbrack!”

“A what?”

“A Barmbrack,” Christine repeated. “It’s an Irish Hallowe’en tradition I learned about while traveling with my father. While they used bread, I decided to make it a fortune telling cake, just for Hallowe’en.”

“It looks like you do not need anymore cake,” Sorelli whispered under her breath.

One of the other ballerinas giggled.

Christine heard them but did not respond, “There are different trinkets baked in the cake and depending on what you get it is symbolic for the future of your relationship.”

“I don’t need a relationship,” One of the girls quipped.

“But what about a handsome patron?” Sorelli asked. “Not all of us will be as fortunate as Christine.”

The Diva forced a smile, “Well shall we cut it?”

The servant at the table cut pieces up and Christine passed them around to the ballerinas. Jammes was the first to speak.

“My fork hit a ring! What does that mean, Christine?”

“Have you been hiding someone, Jammes because that mean you will marry within the next year!”

Jammes licked the cake off the ring and looked at it, “I’ll have to meet him first. Does Raoul have any friends?”

Some of the other girls laughed. As they ate their cake some discovered nothing in their pieces; they either moaned in disappointment or sighed in relief.

“Is there anything in your piece, Christine? You’re the one here in a proper relationship,” Sorelli asked a bit of bite in her words.

Madame de Chagny poked at what she had not ate of her piece of her cake with her fork and hit something. She coaxed it out.

“A stick?” Jammes looked over Christine’s shoulder. “What does that mean?”

Christine frowned before sitting her plate down on the table, “It’s just a silly game.”

“If that is so, then when I am to marry? You had me so excited, Christine!” Jammes spread her left hand out where she had placed the trinket ring on her left ring finger.

“Are you even going to tell us why you are so upset?” Sorelli adjusted some of the feathers of her swan costume.

Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “It supposed to mean an unhappy marriage…excuse me.” She walked to the other side the ballroom and sat down on a couch.

Some of the girls looked around at each other, Jammes at Raoul as he talked to a couple of other guests.

An annoyed sigh escaped Sorelli’s lips as white feathers fluttered behind her. She sat down next to the Star Princess, “That was a rather dramatic reaction to a trivial Hallowe’en game. You’ve always been dramatic, Christine but that was just a little too real. You haven’t told Vicomte have you?”

Christine looked up, her gaze meeting Sorelli’s, her cheeks flushed.

The ballerina scoffed, “Oh don’t look so surprised or innocent! I was about that size when I miscarried. Madame Giry did a wonderful job of taking care of me, making sure a doctor saw me, that I got proper rest for recovery.”

“Was he a patron?” Her curiosity genuine. She and Sorelli never talked much but they had a good working relationship.

The ballerina wiped her brown eyes, “Yes and I still love him. But he will only ever be a patron; even if he wasn’t married, men of his status do not marry dancers.”

The guilt weighted heavy on Christine as tears formed in her own eyes. She took Sorelli’s hand, “It is probably better that way. I mean knowing our status in life and not crossing it. I am sorry about your baby.” She placed her other hand on her small stomach.

“It’s not the Vicomte’s is it?” Sorelli arched an eyebrow. “It’s why you haven’t told him. Your Angel of Music?”

The Diva let out a soft sob, then bit her lip to keep the rest in.

Sorelli lifted her hand and gently caressed Christine’s brown locks. “I’ve never told anyone about this. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Have you seen him? Heard him?”

“Who?”

“My Angel of Music? The Phantom of the Opera?”

The Ballerina smiled sadly at the Soprano, “There has been no action from the Phantom of the Opera since the night of Don Juan Triumphant.”

A few of those tears ran down Christine’s cheeks. She wiped them away and took a deep breath. She embraced Sorelli, “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me.”

Madame de Chagny walked across the ballroom to her husband, “May I have a moment alone with you?”

Raoul linked his arm with his wife, “Oh Lotte, have you gotten in trouble with your friends already?”

Once they were away from Raoul’s friends, Christine pulled him closer, “No they made me realize I need to tell you something. I am with child.”

His eye widened, “What do you mean?”

“You know when you mentioned I look bloated? I am just pregnant; it’s why I can barely fit into this costume.” 

Raoul pulled away and ran his fingers through his hair, “And you thought this was the best time to tell me? Not earlier when I said something? Or tonight after the party?”

Christine took her husband’s hand, “I am sorry but they just made me realize I couldn’t hide it anymore.”

“Hide it?” Raoul jerked away from her. “Why the Devil would you hide something so wonderful from me?”

The Diva’s hands formed fists, “You haven’t even noticed any of the changes in me!” With that Christine stormed out of the ballroom. _It’s a stick in a piece of cake, it’s just a stupid game. A stick in a piece of cake. If only this rocky start to our marriage could be blamed on a silly game and not another man’s child in my womb._


End file.
